


black hole

by macabre



Series: everything stays [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Depressed Peter Parker, Gen if you Prefer, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, depressed flash thompson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 20:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: Flash has always had a physical reaction when it comes to Peter Parker. It just used to be more of the literal hair pulling and pushing variety. He grew out of the worst of it - really he did - but once you’ve dug yourself so far in there’s just that coffin sized hole left to bury yourself in.





	black hole

Flash has always had a physical reaction when it comes to Peter Parker. It just used to be more of the literal hair pulling and pushing variety. He grew out of the worst of it - really he did - but once you’ve dug yourself so far in there’s just that coffin sized hole left to bury yourself in. 

Fortunately, Peter Parker is the smartest kid he’s ever met, and he’s too good and too observant to let it go when Flash suddenly pretends he doesn’t exist. Flash doesn’t bother Parker any more, because he doesn’t talk to him and doesn’t look at him. Out of all the kids he’s bullied over the years, Parker got it the worst, and he’s a walking reminder of everything Flash hates about himself and his family. So he just pretends, because what the fuck else is he going to do for the next couple of years?

Parker isn’t having it though; Flash isn’t sure why he bothers.

“Hey, Flash, want to peer edit with me?” he asks, a small smile as if his best friend isn’t on the other side of him making a what-the-fuck gesture. 

“Leeds has got you.” Flash gets up to work with Connor. Connor, who still beats up the smallest freshmen he can fish out, but at least Flash can rein him in if he keeps up appearances. 

The days alternate between drowning and floating. Either way, Flash doesn’t feel in control of anything. He’s joined every extracurricular that he possibly can, all so he can avoid going home, but every room, every practice he walks into is filled with either kids he tormented or kids that helped him torment. He gets benched on the basketball team, he gets moved to last place on Decathalon, he never finishes his pottery project in art club.

Flash sits in the back of rooms and can’t focus. He gets pulled aside by more than one teacher about his attitude in class, but he can’t do anything but listen to the clock count down the seconds to the end of the school day. At the end of the school day he taps his foot along with the clock until he sees someone coming to tell him to get lost - practice is over. The library is closed. 

He scuttles out the door before they can reach him, then he sits on the front steps to the school and stares out into the parking lot. 

He’s not counting any more, has no idea how long he’s been sitting there when he finally notices somehow has sat next to him. Flash startles, and of course - it’s Parker. Sneaky shit. He’s always been quiet when he wants to be, but he’s also the kid who’s tripped with an entire tray of food more than once this year. 

“Parker.”

“Flash.” Peter bites his lips looking right at Flash; it makes him feel warm and it’s then he realizes how cold it is out. 

“You’re not normally here this late.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, just watches him. He scoots a little closer. “Flash - are you -”

“How’d you do on your essay for Kleeman?” Flash cuts him off. Pretend it’s someone else - anyone else in his class. Not Peter Parker. 

Of course, now Parker doesn’t even want to talk to him. Without saying another word Flash gets in his car and drives away. When he braves a glance in his rear view mirror he sees Parker sitting in the same spot watching him leave.

Flash sleeps in his car that night. Parked in the lot of a twenty-four hour diner not far from the school where he knows he won’t get towed or heckled by the late night manager. 

No one calls him. So he does it again the next night. It seems easier, but then Connor is the first person to tell him he fucking reeks and needs to shower. Flash skips practice and goes straight to shower, then sits outside with his hair dripping wet. It looks like it’s going to rain soon anyway.

He has a missed call that night. He ends up going home the next to avoid the police being called on him.

He’s kept home from school for a few days following the weekend.

That following Thursday when he’s sitting in math class, his skin crawls. He can feel people looking at him. He’s tired, a little dazed from the vicodin his mother gave him after. He’s swaying back and forth, or the room is swaying back and forth. He can’t focus, so he crawls back into his car after first period. 

He’s last track of time again when he feels someone getting into the vehicle next to him. Flash jumps up, lashing out with a kick. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!” 

Flash looks around him - sees the front of the school. The dark night sky. Then he sees Parker in his passenger seat.

He throws open his door and promptly vomits. He lets himself hang there, half out of the car. 

“Flash?” Parker sounds scared. Flash has never heard him scared before - not when he was tossing him into a locker. Not even in D.C., because Parker wasn’t even there when they almost all died. Perfect Parker. Of course was spared.

“Flash.” A hand gently pulls him back into his seat. Flash complies, but he doesn’t look at the other occupant. 

There’s a moment of silence, then Parker tries to reach across him. Flash jumps, catching Parker’s hand in the tightest fist he can muster. 

“Flash.” Parker’s voice is both a warning and a plea. Flash grinds his teeth together, then lets go. 

Parker then finishes reaching across his lap to recline his seat for him. Flash collapses backwards, a rush of breath leaving his chest. Above him, Parker hovers. Much too close. Flash feels like he can’t breath - pushes at Parker’s chest to get him to back up, then as he feels the other boy’s body complying, he pulls Parker down on top of him and clutches at him.

He’s drowning.

“Whoa, Flash, just breath!” Parker is panicked now. Just because Flash has him in a near choke hold while he hyperventilates. 

He opens his hands and puts them up - he’s not trying to hurt him - but he needs to - needs to ground somehow. He can’t slow down his breathing, he’s sure for a moment he’s had a bad reaction to something - then Peter pulls him up enough to wrap his arms around his back and he holds on. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Flash doesn’t tell him he’s squeezing a couple of bruised ribs. When Parker doesn’t let go, Flash doesn’t either. 

Headlights flash across the front of the car, and Flash jumps again. He’s lost track of time once more - it’s been some time though, because his breathing is low and even again, but he’s still in Parker’s arms. Neither of them has moved. 

“Peter?” He doesn’t deserve to use that name. 

Peter just gives him a light squeeze and releases him. Flash realizes the other boy is pretty much sitting in his lap. “You scared me.”

Flash isn’t sure if he means the mental breakdown or the fact that Flash tried to break his arm a second ago. He doesn’t say anything, just lets his body go slack. He wants to roll away and away. Floating down the stream.

“Hey.” Peter demands his attention with the smallest voice possible. “You’ve been scaring me a lot recently. If I’m being honest.”

If I’m being honest I can’t fucking feel anything but how sorry I am for hurting you, Flash wants to say. He doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Please don’t start acting like I’m not here again.” Peter squeezes his hand. How long has he been holding it?

Flash just wants to be left alone. He squeezes the hand back anyway. “I’m fine, Parker.”

“It’s Peter or Parker. Pick one.”

“They’re both your name.”

Peter tugs on his hand, pulling Flash up. He winces at the jostling of his side. Peter’s eyes narrow when he looks down at his chest. Flash waits for the next question to come, but it doesn’t. 

No, I’m not alright. 

“Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s get some dinner!” Suddenly, Peter seems to have endless energy and it’s just radiating, barely contained in his body. Flash can feel him shaking. 

Flash flops onto his side, looking at Peter as he fidgets with his hands. He clenches his fists, then unclenches. 

“You’ll need to drive.” 

Flash directs him to the late night diner down the road. If the manager wants to say something when he walks in, she doesn’t. He sits with Peter at a booth in the back and tries to keep upright. He can’t seem to even open the menu, so Peter orders all of it. 

It literally might be all of the menu. When the plates start pilling up on their table, Flash watches Peter start shoving food down. He splits everything - a neat line down the middle - and pushes the other half towards Flash.

“Where’s our halfsies milkshake?” Flash asks, just to be a dick. Peter raises an eyebrow, fork in his mouth. When the waiter comes back around, he asks for strawberry.

“Thought you’d be a vanilla guy.”

“I’m an all types of milkshakes guy.” Peter says it with a straight face, and Flash can’t handle it - he bursts out laughing, and it startles even him. Peter grins shyly at him, then laughs too. He can’t even remember the last time he laughed, which quickly sobers Flash up. 

It all stops just as suddenly, then Flash can do nothing but stare vacantly at Peter’s lips. He misses the look Peter gives him before reaching across the table. He picks up a piece of chicken friend steak, the kind of wholesome shit that his family would never eat, then actually tries to feed Flash.

“Fuck off, Parker.” 

But Peter just holds his hand steady. “You need to eat. I haven’t seen you eat anything lately. You skip lunch. You sleep in your car.”

Parker’s been watching him.

“Please.” 

He doesn’t have anything left, so Flash leans forward and quickly takes the bite. Peter grins. It’s almost worth it. 

“I’m sorry.” For all the shit I’ve put you through, and all the shit I’m still putting you through.

Peter doesn’t say anything; his face is grim suddenly. He looks like Flash just kicked him all up and down the hallway in front of everybody. He idly pushes some food around a plate in front of him - a congealed looking alfredo. 

“My aunt died three months, two weeks, and one day ago,” he says. “My uncle died only two years before that.”

And his parents years before that. Flash knows. For the first time, Flash wonders who Peter is living with now. Who does he have left? 

“You somehow look more miserable than me.”

“I’m not. I’m a pathetic shit bag, but even I know better than to feel so bad for myself. I’m sorry, Parker. Peter.” 

Peter nods. Behind their table, Flash can hear a clock on the wall. Tick, tick, tick. Flash starts counting along. 

Flash pays the bill - the only thing his father has given him - then they leave the diner and take a stroll. It’s cold out, but not freezing. Peter almost immediately looks miserable though. 

Flash removes his coat and puts it on Parker’s shoulders - he realizes that they’re the same height now. Puny Parker has grown. 

At first, Flash suspects that Peter is going to protest, but in fact he zips it up and pulls his hands into the sleeves. He looks small again.

“Are you going to sleep in your car again?”

“Probably.” His dad won’t come looking for at least another night. 

“Can I stay with you?”

“Pit of despair for two, it is then.”

They curl up in the back seat, Peter still in his jacket. He’s not sure he’ll get it back. Flash sees him texting someone, then he tosses it in his bag and leans into Flash’s side. “I missed you.”

“You missed me harassing you at any given opportunity?”

“Kinda. Missed the attention.” 

Flash can see him playing with his hands in the sleeves. “There are plenty of people who can give you that kind of attention, Parker.”

“I’m not with anyone else though.” Peter tilts his head back from where he’s wedged it under Flash’s shoulder. He’s looking at him through ridiculous lashes and curly hair that Flash has to touch, so he does. 

You deserve better, Parker, he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to say it, because he’s too selfish. 

They either sleep or he loses more time. When Flash becomes aware again, there’s light outside the car windows. Peter stirs, looking even more confused than Flash feels. When he looks at Flash, he’s tense - waiting for something. For the spell to be broken, maybe.

“Keep the jacket,” Flash says, then exits the car. Peter quickly stumbles out behind him, yelling at him to wait. 

“Where are you going?”

“It’s Saturday.” Flash shrugs. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

And when Flash turns around, he can see Peter’s breath in little clouds. The bit of moisture on his lips. The tears in his eyes. Flash reaches out to touch him but stops. 

“Please. Please don’t keep ignoring me on Monday.”

Flash has always had a physical reaction to Peter Parker; he shudders and comes when called. “How could I?”

He counts down the seconds, imagines a clock in the back of his mind, as Peter Parker meets him halfway. It’s more than he deserves, but exactly what he hoped.


End file.
